Taboo
Authors: Roxy Queen
Chapter 1
Raleigh seems hotter than I expected, but maybe that’s because it’s been years since I planned my day around being outside. Regardless, it’s only the second week of June and already the parking lot outside the community swimming pool has me sweating.
“Don’t forget these,
” I call to the girls. The pink and purple goggles swing around my finger. Harper runs back. I pull the elastic band wide enough to go around her head and mount them on the top of her forehead. “And good luck. I know you’ll do great today.”
Claire has already disappeared through the gates
but Harper doesn’t seem convinced. I pull on her pigtails and adjust the straps of her bathing suit. “Nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t be. Swim team is really fun. I heard the other moms saying you get ice cream after the meets.”
“Ice cream?”
“Yes. And you get to stay up late. And…” I trail off when the silver SUV flies into the parking lot. I pull Harper close on instinct. The guy’s driving too fast with this many kids around. Anger boils in my chest and I consider telling him off. I won’t though, because it’s my first week on the job and I don’t know anyone here and it’s too early to gain the reputation of being the crazy nanny. I do look up when the door opens to see who would drive so recklessly, and I’m shocked when I see him. A guy, in his early twenties. His walk is cocky and self-assured. He’s wearing swim shorts and has a backpack over his shoulder. Of course he’s cute, since I’ve already decided not to like him. Maybe he’s the coach? If so, then he’s late. No wonder he’s driving like an idiot.
“Alright, you need to go in
, but I packed a lunch so we can stay for a while after practice, okay?”
“Okay, Ruthie.”
I watch her run off to the rest of the girls her age, all huddled around the pool edge. I walk around the tiled pool deck, picking a table and a chair in the sun. After situating my towel on the chair, I pull my cover-up over my head, revealing a bikini and exposing my olive skin to the sun for the first time this year. Oh well, I think, I may not have a wedding later this summer, but at least I’ll have a tan.
“You must be Ruthie.” A girl near my age sets up at the table nex
t to mine. She has thick red hair pulled up in a ponytail, and her skin is so pale I wonder how she’ll sit out here and not get fried. “I’m Finley.” I stare at her blankly. “Maggie’s nanny. She and Claire are BFF’s, you know.”
I didn’t know
, but again, first week on the job; I’m sure there are plenty of things I haven’t figured out yet. Like who eats peanut butter and who hates bananas and why am I spending my summer sitting around the pool when I should be trying on wedding gowns and attending bridal showers and planning my honeymoon.
All those pla
ns got shot to hell when Jamie decided he wanted out. Which was fine. I wanted out, too, but part of me yearns for that dress. And the shoes. And the stupid freaking honeymoon.
“Betsy says you’re going to Duke this fall?” Finley asks. She’s standing in front of me, blocking my view. I lean a little to the left to see
around her.
She doesn’t notice and continues to talk, asking me questions about working with the girls. Apparently, she’s friends with Betsy, the girls
’ mother. Or is it her sister-in-law? Something like that. It’s not that I don’t care—she seems cool enough but I’ve completely lost focus due to something—no,
someone
in the water.
“Um.
” I try to get a better look. “Can you move over?”
“What?”
She follows my gaze and laughs. “Oh you spotted him, huh? I’ve had my eye on that kid for years.”
“Kid?”
I ask, my eyes glued on this guy. The one from the parking lot. Yowza, he’s even hotter with his shirt off.
“You realize he’s a kid right?”
I look away from him and at Finley. “What? I saw him in the parking lot. He’s like twenty-five right?”
“Nope.”
I lean over and study his back. That’s what caught my attention. His back. Oh man. It’s like muscles on muscles and so broad I don’t think my arms could wrap around him. “Twenty-one?”
She shakes her head and pouts.
“He’s jailbait.”
“No.”
She laughs again and stretches on her towel in the chair next to mine. “Yep.”
“He’s not legal?”
“Nope. Well, maybe. But he just graduated from high school at the most.”
“You’re kidding. He looks twenty-five.”
We both stare across the pool as he lifts himself out of the water. He’s helping with practice, but he’s not the coach. The coach is a woman who wears a shirt that says COACH across the front. This kid…oh god, he’s a kid.
“How does that happen?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Finley says. “I’m serious when I say I’ve been watching him for years. It took a while. Last year I sort of saw it coming, but yeah. He’s quite the specimen.”
“But he’s jailbait?
” I ask again, because I still don’t believe it.
“Eighteen at the most.”
“He’s the most genetically superior eighteen-year-old I’ve ever seen.”
Finley stretches
next to me on her towel, coating her legs in sunscreen. “Yep. And he’s a lifeguard.”
“So he’ll be here every day?”
I feel wrong asking, but I can’t help it and I’m pretty sure Finley has just become my co-conspirator.
“Every day,” she says, sliding
on a pair of black sunglasses with rhinestones scattered around the frames. We both watch as he shows the kids how to dive, a dozen muscles working all at once. Finley nods appreciatively. “Welcome to East Haven Pool.”
Chapter 2
“Oh, no.”
“Yes.”
“God, just no.”
We watch, mouths gaping, at the woman on the diving board. She’s cute—
I suppose, in that over-forty and can still pull off a bikini kind of way. Is she cute enough to bag him? No.
“It’s happening.”
“The secondhand embarrassment…”
“Just
…did she really hold her nose?”
“Yes. What is she doing?”
My eyes are glued to the unfolding scene. He climbs out of the water, droplets sliding down his back, and there she stands at the top of the ladder. Waiting. “She’s waiting for him?”
“To talk to him?”
“Oh my God, you can’t just talk to him.”
And the mome
nt is proven. You can’t. He simply glides by.
“There it is…the blow
-off.”
I shake my head. “Ouch. What’s worse? Being blown off by
a genetically superior eighteen-year-old or the fact you allowed yourself to be blown off by a genetically superior eighteen-year-old?”
“Once you take that path there really is no better or worse. It’s all just terrible.”
Together we nod, heads ducked close so no one else will hear. I have on my trusty gigantic glasses. The ones I’ve been hiding behind for the last week. I pretend they’re a shield from bad bikinis, toxic tattoos, and meddling mothers. But really, they’re my spy glasses.
So I can watch him.
Sure, my job is to babysit two adorable girls. Their parents graciously pay me in cash every Friday and by allowing me to stay in their over-the-garage apartment rent-free. They also have a membership to this quaint community pool that’s not so special except
he
makes it special. And I have officially become obsessed.
“Think of the stamina.”
Finley throws this pearl of wisdom out while we ogle him climbing out of the pool and heading back to the diving board, again. She and I have become fast friends out of necessity and one other mutual interest
since we met last week. The girls, of course, and well
…him
. “No really,” she said again. “Just think of it.”
“I’d rather not,” I lie. It’s too late anyway.
My mind is full of images. I can’t seem to stop myself no matter how inappropriate. At the top of the board, the sunlight catches every taut muscle; how they flex and make pretty curves and shapes.
“Ryan and
I are the same age, so we were eighteen at the same time. He wanted it constantly. I was cool with it and everything, but not as into it as he was. If I knew then what I knew now…”
“Fine
ly, stop.” I’ve lifted out of my seat, just barely, to see his next stunt. He pushes off the platform with the balls of his feet. The board makes a loud springing sound as he twists into some kind of wild back flip that makes my stomach tumble in reaction.
“Why is that so hot?” I ask, fanning myself.
“Because it makes you think about him in bed. Adventurous. Feral. Flexible. I bet he’s like an animal.”
“Stop,
” I say again.
“What? I mean, now that we know he’s legal
, circumstances have changed right?”
“No.”
Before she can respond, my legs are covered in cold, dripping water. Both girls stand over me. “Ruthie, Harper scraped her toe on the edge of the pool.”
I inspect H
arper’s foot. Injuries aside, this job has turned out better than I expected. We get up, come to the pool, hang out, go home. The apartment over the garage is nice. Small and quiet. Perfect for this summer. Basically, I get paid to get a tan and eat peanut butter sandwiches. Since I don’t have to pay rent, I should have enough money to get through the first semester or two at school. “Ouch, it’s bleeding a little. Do you need a bandage?”
“Yes. I really, really, do.
Really.” She sniffs, and I smile at the over-dramatics.
“I didn’t bring any
, so I guess you need to ask the lifeguard.”
Finley perks up and drops her magazine on her stomach.
“Did you say the lifeguard?”
Tugging on my hand, Harper
says, “Come with me.”
“Go with her,” Finley
encourages with a devil’s grin on her face.
I glance across the poo
l where he has lassoed a whistle around his neck and now leans against the guard stand talking to the other lifeguard. “Fine. Let’s go.” I take her hand and we walk across the deck.
“Go get him
, tiger.”
“Shut up.”
She’s right though. I should go get him, but… he’s too young and way too pretty. And just thinking about it makes my palms sweat. And not just because it’s 95 degrees out. Plus, I only broke up with Jamie a month ago. My whole life changed in the last month and the last thing I need is some kind of teenaged rebound.
We reach the stand and
my eyes hit his chest and no matter how much I try, I can’t look him in the eye.
“Do you have any
Band Aids?” I ask. My eyes cannot leave his chest. His skin is so smooth. I grip Harper’s hand to keep them under control.
“Sure
,” he says. His voice is deep. Deeper than expected. Do eighteen-year-old boys have voices that deep? “Sit over there.” He points to a bench next to the guard room with a kind smile. Harper sits down and I watch as he pushes his glasses to the top of his head and they disappear into his unruly tangle of blonde hair. He rummages around the First Aid kit, his fingers shaking a little when he fishes out the bandage.
“Here, I’ll do it,”
I say, reaching for the package.
“No, it’s okay.” He gets down on one knee and gently wra
ps the adhesive around Harper toe. “Better?” She nods and hops up.
“Thanks,” she says.
“No problem.” He tousles her hair and we watch her skip off.
“Thank you…what’s your name?” I say this to his shoulder.
See? I can talk to him, even though I already know his name is Carter Hightower. Recent graduate of Saint Mary’s Catholic School. Birthday June 4
th
.
Have mercy, I’m a stalker.
“Carter
,” he says, pulling his glasses back down over his eyes.
